"A hand that's dirty with honest labor is fit to shake with any neighbor." ~Proverb
After indulging in eating out, beach time, enjoying the sun, sea, and grandparents, the sweat and labor picking olives with our Croatian neighbors was a welcome change.
When we inquired about learning more about olive picking, we were advised - "just walk up the road and ask if you can help." Mor Mor and Far Far met a Croatian family and asked if we could help and they told us the following day they were going to pick all the olives in their small grove and we were more than welcome to join.
We ventured up the road where we found friends and family gathered under the shade of the olive trees sharing beef stew, apricot cakes, and wine. After indulging, we were given aprons and taught how to pick. Every olive goes in the bag regardless of shape or color and careful not to break the branches and off we went. The olives all have to be taken to the factory and processed into oil that day to be considered "extra virgin olive oil"
The olive grove was a steep rocky hillside with the slabs of limestone underfoot. The day was warm with a gentle breeze, and for the rest of the day, we picked olives, filling crate after crate until the sun started to set behind the horizon and the last tree was harvested
I have always found berry picking meditative. I love the repetition, the sense of providing for the family, the simplicity of the bucket slowly filling as you make your way through the tundra. Picking olives had the same mesmerizing feel, but dry, standing and looking for the green olives in green trees instead of the deep blue. It also was more communal as we all did it together to accomplish the task before the olives started to lose their antioxidants. It was a day of sweat, community, and the joy of work.
These little ones were great at climbing the tress to pick the top olives and not injury the plants. This was an old grove that had not been trimmed rencently. We learned that a good grove is trimmed so that you can reach the top olives but the goats and sheep can not eat the olives but can walk under the tress to fertilize the trees.
We meet this man our way to the olive grove. While it sounds as though this country gets over run with tourist during the summer, it has felt as though the country has settled back into its old ways.
On our way up to the olives we passed a group of men harvesting grapes for wine. They stopped and gave us bunches to try. Sticky, sweet and full of bees!
Lunch gathering in the shade before the real work began.
Looking down at hundreds of years of agriculture.
Little one in a sea of olives.
These aprons were key for the picking and quickly became full and heavy.
Mor Mor and Far Far hard at work… and they thought they were coming on vacation.
Fruits of our labor.
The last rays of light hitting the vineyard at the end of our day of work.
Far Far tasting local homemade brandies at the local town restaurant before our 2.5 miles walk home in the dark.